


Memories and Moments

by noyin



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Deceased Logan Sanders, Familial Angst, Family, Fluff, Grief Hoarding, Grief/Mourning, Hoarding Disorder, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Parental!Patton & Logan, Virgil Is Their Kid, Whenever I Write Logicality It's Always Super Angsty, sad hours
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23517235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noyin/pseuds/noyin
Summary: Virgil wasn’t expecting anything really when he decided to make the trip to his dad’s house...
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Past Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	Memories and Moments

When Virgil made the drive to his dad's house for the weekend, he was ready to expect anything.

It had been half a year, after all, since he last visited Patton. Virgil wished he could visit more often, but between his work, recently getting married, and moving into a new apartment in the city, it was safe to say that Virgil had his hands full. But now he had the weekend off—his husband, Roman, didn't, though he was not happy about staying behind and missing out on Patton's cooking—Virgil knew he needed to make this trip. It had been too long and…

Well, Virgil was worried for his dad, long story short.

The drive wasn't too bad. It was pleasant, actually. He had been cooped up in the city for so long, he had forgotten of the beauty the countryside scenery of his hometown. It was quieter. Virgil remembered a time when he would get lost for hours in fields of wheat, and the vivid smell of dirt after the rain, and the way the cloudless sky would take his breath away. Nostalgic, that was the word.

Virgil turned into a gravel path, just passed the house that had the horses and the splintery wooden fence. As the car bounced along the rocky road, a cute little house came into view from behind overgrown azalea bushes and tree branches composed primarily of spanish moss. It was a ranch-style house with a yellow exterior and a small garden that looked like it wouldn't grow a thing despite the love and care poured into it. Just like Virgil remembered.

Virgil set his car into park and texted Roman that he had made it, in case his rather dramatic husband thought the worst. He grabbed his suitcase from the back—yes, he was only staying for two nights, but he still packed ten underwears, sue him—and made his way up to the covered concrete patio with the wicker furniture that Virgil was sure hadn't been used in months.

Virgil held his breath for a moment, hesitant to knock. It was really a coincidence. That he had the weekend off the weekend of his Papa's birthday. Well. What would've been his Papa's birthday.

He finally rapped on the door, clutching his suitcase perhaps a little too tightly. He could hear shuffling from behind the door and then the door pulled open, revealing a polo-clad man with thick framed glasses and rosy cheeks.

"Virgil!" Patton said, smiling until his eyes twinkled. He wrapped his arms around his son, hugging him tightly and Virgil did the same. "Oh! You didn't tell me you were coming! This is the best surprise!"

"Hey, dad," Virgil said, chuckling.

Patton pulled away. "You came just in time! I made brownies!" He craned his neck to check over Virgil's shoulder. "Where's Roman?"

"His work wouldn't let him take the time off," Virgil said, "He really wanted to be here. He says he loves you very much and sends you the biggest kisses."

"Aw, what a sweetie," Patton said, "I'll have to call him later. Well, come in, come in! Oh, let me take your suitcase."

"It's fine, dad, I got it," Virgil said.

Even so, Patton's hand darted to the handle of Virgil's luggage and snatched from him to carry it in. With a sigh, Virgil followed him into the house, kicking his shoes off at the door before closing it. Virgil was instantly bombarded with memories of his childhood, only amplified by the smell of brownies. It felt like home in every way. Well. Except that Papa…

"I put your things in your bedroom," Patton said as he returned to the foyer. "So! How was the trip?"

"It was nice," Virgil said. "You doing okay, dad?"

"Course I am, kiddo!" Patton said.

Virgil frowned, but said nothing about the nagging feeling that sat in the pit of his stomach. "So, you said you had brownies?"

Patton chortled and ushered for Virgil to follow him to the kitchen.

Virgil wasn't expecting anything really when he decided to make the trip to his dad's house. But he definitely wasn't expecting to walk into piles of clutter littering the space of the kitchen. Sure, his house had always been a little bit _decorated_. But this…

Virgil fiddled with the hems of his sweater sleeves.

"You're looking a little uneasy, Virge," Patton said as he placed two cups of coffee onto the kitchen table. "You want to sit down?"

Virgil took up on Patton's offer and cradled the mug of coffee in his hands. Observing the mess, Virgil asked slowly, "Why is it so messy in here?"

Patton laughed. "Oh, that's just me. I haven't gotten around to cleaning up yet." Patton pushed the plate of brownies to him and took two of his own. "Help yourself, kiddo. They should be cooled by now."

Virgil absentmindedly took a couple and chewed on them slowly. He stared at the several piles of newpapers and magazines that covered just about every flat surface of the kitchen—that's all it was, really. Newpapers and astronomy magazines. And Virgil noticed that the newspapers weren't even full newspapers. Just the crosswords. A bunch of papers of untouched crossword puzzles. For as long as he could remember, Patton loathed crosswords. Virgil swallowed his brownie.

"Remember when we used to do this when you were little?" Patton asked. Virgil blinked out of it and stared at his dad.

He took another bite of his brownie. "Yeah. I remember."

Patton smiled. "I'd make them for breakfast for your birthday. You still like brownies, right? They were your favorite thing in the world." Patton chuckled a little, but there was a sadness in his eyes. "You were just like your Papa. He loved brownies, too."

"I remember." Virgil said. He downed his brownie with a swig of coffee and slowly set the mug down on the table. Patton seemed to have zoned out a little. "Dad."

He snapped right out of it, placing a painfully artificial smile on his face. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay? You know..." Virgil motioned around the room, then sighed and combed his bangs back with his fingers. "With Papa. Are you okay with Papa?"

"I _am_ okay, kiddo." His phrasing was weird to Virgil, as if he was trying to convince him. "But I just miss Logan. I miss him so much."

It had roughly been half a year since his Papa's stroke and subsequential untimely death. At the time, Virgil had been so devastated and barely slept or ate for a solid month. It wasn't until he realized that his Papa would scold him so hard for his terrible grieving habits that he snapped out of it and decided to go to therapy.

He knew the death of his Papa was very hard on Patton, too. He remembered hearing Patton cry himself to sleep almost every night. It broke Virgil's heart when he realized just how much pain and sadness hid behind his dad's smile. Needless to say, Virgil forced his dad into therapy whether he liked it or not because he knew Papa would. But, goodness, was Patton a stubborn man! It was no wonder where Virgil got his defining traits from.

"But, I'm fine, really," Patton said.

Virgil took another sip of his coffee and fiddled with the curled corners of the newpapers."I can help you clean up, if you want."

"Hm? Oh, no. It's- it's fine," Patton said. He smiled, strained. "Besides! I want to read a couple of things before I throw them out."

Virgil reached for one of the pieces of newspaper laying on the center of the table and inspected it. "But, they're all crosswords, dad. You hate crosswords, you only used to keep them for Papa."

"Just leave it, Virgil," Patton said, his tone tense. Virgil looked to Patton. He cleared his throat. "I'm not ready to throw it out yet."

Virgil frowned. "Okay." and set the paper back on the table with the rest of the papers.

There was silence for a moment, silence so quiet, Virgil could hear the hum of the house. Patton caressed the mug in his hand, his fingers tapping the side of the cup and his eyes lost in thought. Virgil didn't know what to say—it felt as if he had done something wrong—so he reached across the table to hold his dad's free hand. Patton squeezed back.

"Your Papa used to do the crosswords, remember that?" Patton said and his voice sounded so small. "Every morning."

"Of course I remember."

"He used to wake me up on the weekends, because he didn't want me to sleep passed noon." Patton tittered. "He'd make breakfast for us, remember? And he'd wait until we were down to do the crosswords. Because even though he was the only one who loved them, even if he knew the answers already, he wanted to do them with us. And we were such horrible guessers, but it was worth it, I think. To see him smile and shake his head. His eyes were always the prettiest when he smiled."

Virgil gave him a weak smile. "I know, Dad. I know."

"So, I don't know why I'm keeping them, Virge," Patton said. He dropped his head, for once looking as he truly felt—broken. "I'm keeping them, maybe, because I think it will bring his smile back. That maybe I'll wake up one weekend and he'll be there to call me a sleepyhead, and that he loves me." Patton rubbed his eyes under his glasses, sniffling. "But they're just crosswords, Virge. I don't know why I'm keeping them, but I know that if I don't, I'll feel like I'm losing him."

Virgil slipped out of his seat and wrapped his arms around his dad's shuddering shoulders. Patton held on to Virgil tightly, burying his head into Virgil's shoulder and sobbing gently. Virgil didn't know what to do but hold him tighter.

"Doctor- doctor Picani says it's good- to think about loved ones- in a positive light," Patton hiccuped inside Virgil's hoodie. "And I know it's- it's not meant to be easy. But it's so _hard_."

"I know, dad. I think a lot about Papa, too," Virgil said.

Patton remained in his arms for a little longer, and then he pulled away and wiped his teary eyes, his expression melancholic through his smile. His eyes drifted to the golden band around his ring finger and he looked at it with consideration.

"I'm sorry you have to see me like this," Patton said. He fidgeted with the ring, twisting it around. "I'm supposed to be strong and here I am collecting crossword puzzles I'll never do."

Virgil sighed, looking again to the mess of papers littered around the kitchen. And it saddened Virgil more than anything, the reason why Patton kept the papers. Virgil could understand—he took up doing crosswords after his Papa passed away, after all. But he'd do them with Roman, and it would remind him of Logan, and those memories were a happiness for him.

"Okay, look, dad."

Patton looked to him. Virgil pulled his chair closer to Patton's and plucked a paper from the central pile of the table. He laid the crinkled thing flat and left to retrieve two pencils from the kitchen's junk drawer. Returning, he put a pencil by Patton, grabbed his coffee and another brownie, and sat down.

"Why don't we- Let's do one together," Virgil said, "For old times' sake."

Patton looked at the crossword in front of them, then to Virgil. And then the tears rolled down Patton's face and he tittered lightly.

"I'd like that," Patton said, "I'd like that very much."


End file.
